Experimental
by SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: In a mission gone wrong, Jazz finds himself on the receiving end of Shockwaves latest experiment.
1. Chapter 1

**Those on my tumblr know the drill.**

**Complete overhaul and re-write. Fingers crossed I actually like it this time.**

**(Old version is still on my tumblr!)**

**Edit: Sorry! I hope no one saw that, welp.**

**Units of time as I use them:**

**Klick – a second**

**Breem – a minute**

**Joor – an hour**

**Cycle – a day**

**Decacycle – 10 days**

**Groon – a month**

**Orn – a decade**

**Vorn – a century**

{bond chatter}

::Comm. chatter::

* * *

Jealous was not usually a word Jazz used to describe himself, but at the moment that was what he was.

He played with the pen in between his fingers; twirling it and spinning it as he only partially listened to Mirage present the information he had collected in his latest mission. Jazz knew it off by heart, the spy having given it to Jazz before in it's unrefined and uncensored glory. Anything that the pair deemed unnecessary to bring up at the officers meeting was left out – they'd bring it up with Optimus and possibly Prowl later if they wanted to look into it.

Prowl.

Jazz quietly sighed to himself as he looked across the table at the Praxian, who was sitting straight and watching Mirage with rapt attention. Quite the difference to Jazz, who was sitting hunched over the table and fiddling with his pen. He quietly swore as he accidentally knocked the top of it off, screwing it back on again and putting it back down as he hoped nobody saw.

Glancing up to see Prowl giving him a disapproving look made Jazz realise that he was not as discreet as he had originally thought.

Whoops.

Anyway. Jealous.

Why? Jazz himself was reluctant to admit it, but every time he saw Bluestreak run up to Prowl and interact with him, the feeling would latch onto his spark and twist it in ways Jazz was not comfortable with. He'd always find some excuse to leave the room so he wouldn't act upon those feelings, and whether or not others were catching onto this Jazz didn't know. If he stayed, he'd see Prowl listen to him with the same rapt attention he was giving to Mirage, and he'd never stop him or talk over him. He'd respond and act genuinely interested – and it was something he didn't do with Jazz anymore.

Safe to say that was why Jazz was feeling jealous.

Prowl never allowed Jazz to run up to him, always scolding him after for acting in a way unbecoming for an Officer.

Prowl let Bluestreak get away with a lot. Bluestreak was allowed to visit him whenever he wanted, even during the recharge cycle when it was not uncommon for Bluestreak to fall asleep on Prowls berth, and had access to both his office and his quarters. Bluestreak was always welcome to comm Prowl, to visit Prowl, to drag him out of his office to refuel and recharge… everything, really. He never got angry.

But he'd often lose his temper with Jazz, sending him away. If Jazz didn't leave then he'd be recipient of a verbal lashing, which would always end with Jazz storming out.

And he just didn't know why.

* * *

Jazz swaggered out of Optimus's office with a huge grin plastered on his face. Suceess! He'd been granted permission to take himself and Mirage on an infiltration mission at the Decepticons base. As it turned out, Mirage had found some juicy info on their current activities, and they'd need to keep an eye on their spacebridge and see if they had any other plans brewing.

He quickly commed Mirage asking him to meet him in his office to brief him before they left. Prowl had been the one to plan the infiltration, and he had given it a success rate of 87%. High enough for Prowl to accept it, and low enough for Jazz to feel a lot of wriggle room. Fantastic.

The fact Prowl was not present there like he usually would have been made Jazz internally frown, but he quickly brushed it off. Whatever. It wasn't as if he needed Prowl to hold his hand.

Not that he would have minded.

Before his thoughts continued on in _that_ particular tangent, Jazz sat down on the edge of his desk and swung his legs as he waited for Mirage.

While Mirage was nowhere near as precise as Prowl was, he was true to his word and arrived very quickly.

"Sir?" He asked as he slid into a seat opposite the desk. Jazz handed him a datapad.

"Boss Bot gives the all clear. We leave in four hours, better get ya stuff together hmm?"

* * *

The first thing Jazz thought as he wriggled through a vent was that the Decepticons _really_ needed to work on their house keeping.

A thick layer of dust caked his paint, and rust was slowly eating away at the metal. A dark, tawny brown powder was flaking from them as he went past.

Now, they were underwater, but _really_? You'd have thought they'd keep their ventilation shafts in good shape.

Jazz stifled a laugh as he thought of what Mirage would think to this. It wouldn't do to be caught because he was laughing.

Besides, chances were, Mirage had hopped out at first opportunity and activated his invisibility shield. He treasured his appearance like he would his firstborn child.

Jazz froze when the ventilation shaft creaked, giving a daunting cracking sound as he found himself on a particularly weak section. He could wriggle back and try to find another way to go, or he could continue forwards and risk it breaking and blowing his cover.

Deciding to continue forwards, Jazz carefully crept onwards. His job description was danger – if it happened it happened and he'd just have to try and wriggle his way out of it.

Bad idea.

There was a loud creaking noise before the sound of splintering metal reached him, and before he knew it the bottom of the vent had given way and Jazz was dropping.

The floor came before Jazz could activate his magnets to keep him in place or to stop his fall, and it came hard. Jazz could have sworn his neck had snapped backwards with the force of his impact, but it was probably just his imagination.

Probably.

All he knew was that it was going to ache in the morning.

He groggily got up, shaking the static from his helm and took in his surroundings. Lucky for him, it was an empty room that only had crates in it. He popped one open to see it loaded with ammunition.

But unknown to him, he was not alone.

Ravage sat perched atop one of the boxes, lazily peering down to see who had disturbed her nap. Upon seeing the Autobot Third in Command, she immediately arched her back and began snarling at him, jumping down from her perch and onto Jazz himself.

"Wha' the frag-!" Jazz yelped, arms immediately coming up to throw whatever had latched onto him off. If only it weren't for claws. They dug into his plating, anchoring the livid cat to his body.

Ravage was very, very bad news. She meant Soundwave, and Soundwave meant pain and humiliation.

Well, his cover was blown. Most definitely blown.

Jazz hoped that Mirage hadn't been caught either. They were on a comm silence, so sending him a ping to make sure he was okay was out of the question. Soundwave would detect it, and then Mirage would most definitely be compromised if he hadn't been already.

"Ravage: desist."

The cassette immediately returned to her masters' pedes, licking her claws clean before she retracted them. She gave Jazz a smug look. _We've got you now_.

Jazz had one moment of clear thought before Soundwave released a signal that knocked him offline.

* * *

Judging from how he was alone, Jazz presumed that Mirage was yet to have been captured.

Great, nobody to natter away to.

His chronometer was damaged, so Jazz had no way to tell how long he had been there for. The energon that was caked around his shoulder was dry and beginning to flake off. He couldn't move, hands bound behind him with stasis cuffs. If he were anywhere else he would have commented on how kinky this situation was, but given he was in the Decepticon base he refrained. Nah, he was scared.

What were they planning? Jazz knew what was coming – torture that would leave you begging for death, something to end it and stop the misery. And would they give it to you? No, absolutely not. The more you wanted death the more information you gave to find it faster.

Decepticons didn't stop until they had squeezed everything out of you.

But at the back of his mind, Jazz knew that Prowl would be planning _something_ to get him out. He always did.

Unless he didn't know.

Swallowing hard, Jazz's mind was working to find some way to get out. His comm device was down – thanks to Soundwave, no doubt – so sending a message was a no-go. He had no siblings within range, so using their sibling bonds would be impossible. Besides, how would they get into contact with the Autobot base? The message would arrive too late. Jazz himself was not a bonded mech either – that was _suicide_ in his line of work – so he was well and truly alone.

He thought.

"Jazz."

A whisper to his left made him jump. He couldn't see anyone there, which meant…

''Raj?"

"Sit still, I'll get you out."

Jazz complied, the feeling in his arms coming back as the cuffs were deactivated and removed. Rubbing his wrists, Jazz nodded to where he thought Mirage was. "Thanks. What now?"

"We can wait until the guards come in and open the door, or we can break ourselves out." Mirage replied. Jazz mulled over it in his head for a few moments.

"Have ya got any info?"

"Just one bit I think you should know."

"An' that is?"

"Shockwave's here."

Jazz's fists clenched as his jaw set. Shockwave. He _hated_ him – no, hate was too weak a word. He _despised_ him.

Nobody knew why, but Jazz preferred it that way.

"Don't engage him, Jazz." Mirage warned, feeling Jazz's field abruptly change. "I know you've got history with him, but you shouldn't let your anger get the better of you. We should get the information and go."

"So long as Ah don't see him." Jazz replied, sitting down onto the floor. "Ah'll minimize that chance by takin' out the guards when they come."

"I'll be waiting." Mirage replied, and Jazz heard him walk towards the door.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What was taking them so long? Jazz knew that he was quite a big catch – Third in Command and Head of Special Operations, woohie. Put _that_ down on your CV! So surely they'd like to get started on him as soon as possible?

Apparently not, and Jazz found out the reason why almost a cycle after he'd first onlined in the grotty cell.

Shockwave had wanted to see him. Personally.

Jazz snarled as he leapt to his feet, Mirage scrambling to activate his invisibility shield before he was noticed, feeling embarrassed that he'd been caught out. Mirages words echoed in his head – do not engage, _do not engage_…

The single red optic bore into him, staring at him in distaste.

And a large hand reached forwards, grabbing Jazz by the neck before lifting him and carrying him out, Mirage quickly moving to follow. Jazz hissed and wriggled like an enraged animal, scratching at Shockwave's hand with his clawed digits as he choked for air. Mirage had always found it strange that an Autobot had been equipped with those, but he decided it wasn't his place to judge.

The door nearly slammed shut on Mirage, and it was only him quickly leaping forwards that stopped it. He was torn – give himself away and help Jazz, or watch and see what information he could gain first? Knowing Shockwaves intentions here was his first priority.

So it was with great reluctance that Mirage trailed behind the pair, Jazz's movements becoming more frantic as fear bubbled up inside of him.

* * *

"We have your Third in Command."

Optimus frowned at the screen. It was not the usual video message Megatron used to gloat with, and it was not Megatrons voice either. It was Shockwaves.

Why would Shockwave be contacting them? Wasn't he on Cybertron?

What was Jazz even _doing_ over there?

Unless Shockwave had decided to pay Earth a visit.

But right now, none of that mattered. They had Jazz and they had to get him back.

He quickly called an officers meeting. Prowl attending was a no brainer – he was his Chief Tactician, and his Second in Command. Ironhide and Ratchet were also summoned. Optimus retracted his mask to pinch the bridge of his nose, a habit he had picked up from the humans.

This was going to be a long night.

Prowl was the first to arrive, punctual as ever. If he noticed Optimus' moment of weakness, he didn't comment on it. He did, however, express his concern over the Primes wellbeing.

"I am fine, Prowl. It's Jazz I'm more worried about."

At the mention of Jazz Prowls wings immediately shot up in what Optimus recognized as panic.

"Jazz?"

Ironhide and Ratchet arrived and quickly entered, locking the door behind them.

Optimus nodded to them before clearing his intake.

"I received this message a joor ago, from the Decepticons.

He pressed a key on his keyboard and let the message play. The usually stoic tactician's optics widened and his doorwings trembled slightly before quickly stilling. Ratchet frowned, clearly worried for his friend while Ironhide looked moments away from a fit of anger.

"We've gotta get him!" Ironhide immediately shouted, his fist punching down into the palm of his hand.

"Calm down, Ironhide. We will." Ratchet replied, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. "Optimus, what do you suggest we do?"

"We go in and we get him out of there." He responded firmly. He remembered the other times Jazz had been captured and the injuries he had sustained – he didn't wish that upon his friend for another moment. "Prowl, what's the fastest time you can get a plan?"

"With all the variables available, a cycle at most. Now that Shockwave's here, it may be harder."

Optimus nodded. Shockwave was a formidable opponent, and knowing that Jazz was his captive? Even more so. "Very well. Do not let the crew know. What happens in this room stays in this room, are we clear?"

There was a chorus of 'yes sir's and Optimus nodded. "The three of you, work together on this. I want Jazz back with us as soon as possible."

The three gave their affirmatives before they were dismissed. Optimus sat down heavily in his chair. He trusted Prowl to get the job done, but he couldn't help a foreboding feeling. The Prime had noticed that interaction between his Second in Command and his Third in Command had recently become strained, the two always getting into arguments or avoiding each other. This was no good for morale, and it was making him worry. What did this mean for their friendship? He remembered them being incredibly close before the war and even after it started. Had they argued and made blows they simply couldn't recover from?

Optimus added it to his list of things to investigate. Curiosity was nibbling at him already.

* * *

Ravage purred as her master petted her helm.

Soundwave sat at the console, Ravage on his lap as typed away while Shockwave stood behind him with his back facing him, hands busy with whatever it was on the table before him. Jazz was offline and strapped to a berth on the other side of the room, helm open and exposing the circuits within.

None of them were aware Mirage was in the room, barely holding back from purging his tanks.

How could they be so relaxed about this? About the life of another? Mirage was desperate to stop them, but he knew it was pointless. Soundwave had all of his brats tucked away in his chest or sitting on his lap like some kind of pet, and Shockwave himself was enough of a deterrent. Besides, with Jazz's helm open like it was, Mirage simply couldn't risk it.

So he had to stay and hope there was some way he could escape and get the Autobots here faster.

Mirage settled on lurking around behind Soundwave, being careful to not get too close, and take a peek at what he was doing.

Schematics covered the screen, line after line of code writing itself down the side. The mech in question was Jazz, and Mirage was amazed at just how much information they had on him. Granted, some of it was out of date (he didn't have a silver paint job anymore, for starters) but it was definitely Jazz.

Why would they have this?

Where did they get it?

The more Mirage looked the more questions he had and the less answers he was getting.

He couldn't crash, not here, so he stole away and took a look at what Shockwave was building.

It was a small circuit board, small enough that Shockwave required magnifying lenses in order to see it, and he was making tiny, minute adjustments to it. Frowning, Mirage crept over to Jazz and took a peek inside his head.

That circuit was there.

Why was Shockwave building another? Was he modeling it after Jazz's? What for? As far as Mirage knew, it didn't dictate anything important.

He glanced down and started as he realized that his visor was broken, half of it smashed off. Mirage had never seen Jazz's optics, and it was general knowledge that he didn't have them.

Apparently that was not the case, as he was looking at them now.

And he felt sick.

They were branded, and any noble would know what that meant. Only the lowest of the low, the slave caste were ever branded across their optics. It was the first place others looked during a conversation, and it was the best way to get the message across: I am a slave, I am owned. The side of his visor that still remained covered the side that would have the family emblem, and Mirage could only hope that it was not his family. He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if it was, Jazz had to see him every day…

A thought suddenly struck.

Neither Soundwave nor Shockwave seemed to be phased in the slightest that Jazz had the brandings over his optics. In fact, Mirage hadn't noticed any change in their behavior at all – had they already known? Maybe this was why they owned the schematics – they'd come across Jazz while he was still tied down into that caste.

A sickening, dark feeling curled around in his chest. If they had been the ones to own him…

Before Mirage knew it, the barrel of a gun had been trained at his chest. Looking down, he realized that his invisibility shield had dropped.

Oh, _slag_.

* * *

Prowl ignored the weird looks he got as he presented the plan to Optimus. Ironhide and Ratchet shared a look of contemplation as they realized that this was the most expressive they'd seen Prowl in… well, forever. Optimus had to keep a professional attitude and focused on the plan, but that didn't mean he missed it either.

Once the meeting was over and Ironhide left to round up the mechs they'd selected, Optimus quickly pulled Prowl aside before he could escape.

"Are you okay?" He asked, lowering his voice so it couldn't be heard through the open door. "You seem quite distressed."

"I am fine." Prowl replied tightly. "The mission was given a 85% success rating."

"That's not what I meant. You're worried about something."

Prowl's optics widening slightly were the only indication Prowl gave at being surprised. Had he really been that transparent? "That I am, however I do not believe it to be of importance."

"I understand Jazz is your friend. We'll be trying our best to get him back."

"O-of course, sir." Prowl replied, doorwings tilting in acknowledgement. "I expected no different."

Knowing that the conversation he wanted to have could not happen with his door wide open, Optimus nodded and allowed Prowl to leave. It would have to wait.

It would most likely be best to wait until the mission was over and Jazz was safely back at base, when tension would not be high. Primus knew Prowl had enough on his plate as it was.

* * *

Eye ridges were raised as Prowl insisted he be included in the rescue mission. His reasoning was that as there were many unknowns, it would be best if there were a tactician present to make the needed changes to deal with anything they came across. It was odd, considering Smokescreen had been drafted and was a tactician himself, but nobody was brave enough to raise it with a Prowl on edge. His temper was explosive at best.

Getting into the base was tricky, but they managed it by exploiting the vents in the same way Mirage and Jazz had. There was a small group of five of them, and they split off into two groups – one with Prowl and Hound, and another with Smokescreen, Bumblebee, and Sideswipe.

There was a faint sound that nobody could work out what it was. It was high pitched and hitched quite a lot. It never lulled.

Prowl and Hound decided to investigate the sound while the other three had been sent off to search the brig. It would be a quick get in get out mission, they weren't planning on staying.

"Unfortunately, I do not know where Mirage is." Prowl whispered to Hound as they crept through the base, Prowl living up to his name while Hound relied on his senses to keep them undetected. "We can only hope that he too was not captured."

Hound nodded.

Finding the source of the sound was easy enough – it seemed to echo from below them, a fact that registered in Prowl's mind as being from one of the interrogation rooms.

That fact did not settle too easily with him, as it meant it was likely to mean Jazz was involved.

Still, he had to stay professional, so without a second thought he dropped down to the next level with Hound in tow.

Shockwave remained oblivious to the intruders, as did Soundwave.

Soundwave had left a few joor ago for his shift at the communications centre, leaving Shockwave alone to continue his work.

Jazz was now awake, and he was almost certain the entire base knew.

His helm _hurt_. It felt as though someone was shoving a white-hot rod straight through his helm, barbs twisting and turning and shredding his insides. He felt as though he were melting, his body far hotter than its limits and turning his delicate circuits to molten metal. Arms and legs still bound, all he could do was bow off the berth and _scream_. Jazz wasn't even aware his vents were hiccupping as coolant ran down his face, nor was he aware of the taste of energon in his mouth as he screamed his intake raw.

Mirage could only sit and watch, magnetically attached to the wall and inhibited by stasis cuffs. Soundwave had deactivated his vocalizer.

The closer Prowl got, the more he realized that it wasn't just a random sound – it was someone screaming. They sounded like they were in absolute agony and sobbing.

_Please don't be Jazz, please don't be Jazz…_ It played like a mantra in his head. He'd been awful to him as of late.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head – they were not needed here – Prowl pushed on. He had to get Jazz out.

The pair dropped down onto another floor that had dried energon splattered onto the walls and scratch marks from where something, or someone, had been dragged down, their fingers leaving gouges in the metal floor. Prowl dropped to one knee to inspect it. They were caused by blunt fingers – it wasn't Jazz. He barely suppressed his sigh of relief.

"Sir, I think that's Jazz." Hound quietly said, voice wavering towards the end. Prowl's doorwings went down. He had been trying so hard to deny it…

But it did sound like Jazz.

"I suspected as much." Prowl replied, checking the ammo in his gun. "It's likely that he's guarded. First, we get the door open then trick the guard away with a hologram. Hide us and have a hologram of us run away, clear?"

"Crystal." Hound replied, making sure his own gun was loaded.

A firm pede to the door kicked it straight off its hinges, and the first thing they saw was Shockwave standing over Jazz with a laser scalpel in hand.

Before either Prowl or Hound had registered it, Prowl had fired his gun and knocked it straight out of Shockwaves hand.

But they had a plan, and Prowl intended to stick to it.

Hound quickly formed a hologram as they both ducked to hide either side of the door, disguising them as part of the wall. He then formed holographic versions of himself and Prowl slowly backing away, taunting Shockwave into following them before running away when the purple mech fell for it.

They both waited until he was out of sight before they quickly entered the room.

Guilty. Prowl felt guilty.

Jazz was still screaming, coolant still poured down his face as his vents hiccupped and hitched. Energon was splattered across his face and dribbling from his mouth and down his chin. There were burns on his chest from where Shockwave had begun to cut him open with a laser scalpel.

Prowl was furious. And confused. And terrified.

What was wrong with Jazz?

"Jazz!" He tried, reaching out to touch him before quickly flinching and tearing his hand away. He was scorching hot. Prowl tentatively tried again, knowing what was coming this time. "Jazz, please!"

While Prowl was trying to get Jazz to calm down and respond, Hound had begun trying to get Mirage off the wall and removing the vocal inhibitor that was strapped to his throat.

"'Raj, what happened?"

"I-I don't know. Shockwave just put something in his head and he just started _screaming_. Nothing they did could stop it, and they stuck me here to stop me from doing anything." Mirage replied, guilt bleeding into his voice. "I'm sorry, Hound. I couldn't do anything."

Jazz was starting to calm down and had stopped screaming. He was still whimpering, body twitching and convulsing as he released sounds of pain. Better yet, his visor was starting to flicker, signaling Jazz attempting to online it.

"Jazz! Jazz, look at me." Prowl said, quickly reaching Jazz's face and gently placing his hand on the side of it. Both Mirage and Hound felt the need to look away, as if they were interrupting a private moment. Mirage knew of the… _feelings_ Jazz held for Prowl, and as a general rule Hound did too. The two were terrible at keeping secrets from the other. What remained of Jazz's visor slowly onlined as Prowl quickly undid the bindings on his arms and legs.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, optics blearily looking around. Everything was a blur, colours and shapes blending together.

"I'm here." Prowl replied, immediately returning to his previous position of his hand on the side of Jazz's helm. "We're going to get you out, okay?"

Jazz was silent for a moment while his optics focused on the black and white blurr in front of him. When Prowls voice registered and he slowly came into view, Jazz couldn't stop the wave of excitement that tore through him.

Prowl! It was Prowl!

The thought of this being a bad idea was promptly ignored as Jazz threw himself at Prowl, arms wrapping around his neck. He trembled and shook, still in a huge amount of pain that was oh so slowly ebbing away.

Mirage sent Hound a knowing grin that was completely missed by the pair of black and whites.

"It hurts" Jazz whimpered, curling in closer to Prowl as another wave of pain crashed over him.

"I know, we'll get you back, okay? Ratchet will help you."

Jazz weakly managed a nod. Whatever Prowl said happened, and Jazz was still willing to place his trust in him. The animosity that had suddenly sprouted between them seemed to have faded, for now at least, and remained forgotten as Prowl gently hefted Jazz into his arms and began to carry him through the base.

Hound and Mirage shared a look before making to follow, watching the pairs back. A siren suddenly began blaring, a red light flashing in the halls. They'd been rumbled, Shockwave had managed to get word out.

"Just how far did you take him?" Prowl asked Hound.

"Not too far, I took him back the way we'd came. Looks like he had wanted the glory for himself." Hound replied with a shrug. He paused, looking at where Jazz's helm was. There was a trail of energon still dripping from his mouth and onto Prowls back. How was he not noticing this? Prowl caught Hounds optic and looked down, doorwing twitching. Oh, he had noticed. But at the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Where were the other three?

"Mirage, scout ahead. Find the others. It's likely Soundwave has disabled communications, so don't count on being able to contact them that way. They went to the brig, they couldn't have gotten far."

Mirage silently activated his invisibility shields before stealing away, his pedefalls almost silent as he went ahead.

"Hound, see if you can set up a hologram to hide us. We have to try and remain hidden."

"I'll see what I can do." Hound replied.

* * *

Optimus sat at his desk back at the Autobot base, the orange walls of the Ark seemingly suffocating. He was anxious. The five that had gone in hadn't made contact since they had set out, and while the Prime had faith in them he was still worried.

What was taking them so long?

Resorting to pacing, Optimus was almost certain that he was going to wear a hole into the floor.

His saving grace was a somewhat breathless comm, call from Prowl.

::We have Jazz::

* * *

**I can't thank everyone who liked, reviewed, followed, and favourited the first run. It was the first story I'd ever published on here and the response I got for it was what motivated me to do more.**

**Here's to hoping I do the story justice, one year on.**

**~Llama**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ya'll sure do know how to make a gal feel good about herself~**

**Units of time as I use them:**

**Klick – a second**

**Breem – a minute**

**Joor – an hour**

**Cycle – a day**

**Decacycle – 10 days**

**Groon – a month**

**Orn – a decade**

**Vorn – a century**

**{bond chatter}**

**::Comm. chatter::**

* * *

Despite Jazz being safely tucked away into the medical bay, Prowl was not happy.

That had been easy. Way too easy.

Shockwave would have _never_ fallen for a trick like that the way he did. It was unsettling to say the least. What was he planning?

The simple fact that the casualty list was so small was something Ratchet counted as a blessing and something Prowl counted as a trap.

And he had walked straight into it.

Shockwave simply didn't allow his prey to escape. He had to have had ulterior motives for this. Something was not right, and Prowl did not like this one little bit.

A terrible thought crossed his mind. What if he had done something to Jazz and they'd brought a huge security risk straight into the base?

A comm line to Ratchet was quickly established.

::Ratchet, Jazz needs to be secluded::

::Hello to you too, Prowl. Jazz is. I'm not risking anything::

Prowl sighed in relief. Trust their medic to have thought ahead. Was he really that stressed out? ::Thank you, Ratchet:: Prowl replied before ending the call. Wincing, Prowl realised that Jazz was right - he really did need to work on his etiquette.

He realised he was pacing again and promptly stopped himself. Talking a calming breath, Prowl tried to reason with himself.

Jazz would be okay. Whatever they did, he had been through worse and had always pulled through. Ratchet could bitch all he liked but he still got the job done.

But Jazz had never clung to Prowl like that and he could still feel the way he had trembled and quaked in his hold-

Groaning, Prowl massaged his forehelm. It had reminded him of Bluestreak after a bad memory flux, and the urge to protect Jazz had bubbled up out of nowhere. Prowl didn't care that he had an audience, all that had mattered was getting Jazz away and back home.

Damn, but he hated those instincts sometimes. Not only was it embarrassing to deal with the teasing after, but it was what got rumours started. He was somewhat glad that his brother Smokescreen nor Bumblebee nor, Primus forbid, Sideswipe saw that. By the time they'd been reunited Jazz appeared to have come to his senses and was instead simply being supported by Prowl and Hound as he walked, movements and balance still shaky. He wouldn't admit it aloud, not even to himself, but Prowl silently lamented the loss.

And he didn't quite know why.

Yes, Jazz was important to him, but Prowl was under the impression that it was simply as a friend and he was keen to leave it at that lest he ruined what they had. Recent events, however, lead him to believe that it may not be the case.

It was a fact that honestly scared him.

He was top of the hit list: a dangerous mech to be with beyond a professional capacity. If anyone were to become a target simply because of his status, he would never forgive himself. He couldn't become attached to anyone, it would only end in disaster.

And yet, he had allowed it to happen.

Prowl was getting soft and he knew it. Pushing the others away was an option, but was he really willing to take it?

* * *

Ratchet was not too happy with the injuries that had wracked up.

Sideswipe had ended up having to stay in his medical bay, which meant Sunstreaker was also glued to his side. This annoyed Ratchet, which meant a wrench to the helm and an appointment to get the dent popped out when Ratchet had calmed down enough to not give him another one.

Which he did, not even five minutes later.

Smokescreen had dislocated a door wing, and Bumblebee his knee. A potshot had hit Mirage whilst he was cloaked.

Hound and Prowl were the only to escape relatively unscathed.

Jazz, on the other hand, was another matter.

Melted and burned circuits. Blown resistors and motherboards. Energon leakages. And the cherry on top, a smashed visor.

_Excellent_.

The weird marking on his optic was bothering him, however. Jazz usually refused to show his optics and Ratchet had long since stopped asking. To see it now felt like he was violating that trust, but he had a strange compulsion to find out what was wrong and fix Jazz.

He had mostly repaired the internal damage thanks to his ever-helpful staff, and Jazz's face had remained covered. Now it was just himself and Jazz in a private room, it was uncovered and he wondered what he should do.

A mock up visor had been made, and the smashed one removed. Ratchet would need a bit of time to remake the visor - it wasn't a simple piece of machinery to say the least - and he had seen a different design on the other optic. This did not settle him in the slightest as the realisation dawned on him.

Jazz was slave caste.

It made Ratchet angry. Not that Jazz had lied - he did not blame him for that, for Ratchet knew that anyone would - but that someone would willingly brand another across their optics, to humiliate them.

It made him feel sick.

There was only one caste that held slaves, and that was the Noble caste. Ratchet could think of one mech who would recognize the symbols branded upon his TIC's face.

Mirage.

* * *

It felt like his helm was underwater.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, audio reaching him faster than his optics could process what he was seeing. He still felt unbearably hot, but it was nowhere near as agonizing as before. His outermost extremities stung and itched, but it was easy to ignore. Besides, as it was he couldn't move. Everything felt heavy, as though it were made of lead.

He could vaguely hear Mirage and Ratchet talking about something from across the room. Or were they next to him? It did sound muffled – maybe outside?

Jazz wanted to sit up, but his body simply wasn't cooperating.

Ratchets voice became much more prominent, and his shoulder bloomed in pain when a hand made contact with it. He couldn't stop the sudden jerk and hiss that tore from his throat. It felt as though he'd been shot.

All audio suddenly came rushing towards him, clear as ever, and his visor finally focused.

Mirage, standing by the door and looking worried, a look that was usually reserved for his paint job or Hound. Ratchet standing next to him, hand hovering over him.

"Jazz, are you alright?" He asked, deciding to place his hand on the edge of the berth instead.

"Did ya _shoot_ me?" Jazz groaned, finding that he was not as heavy as he was before and could lift his hand, placing it on his shoulder. It stung a little, but it didn't feel like a gunshot.

"Nearly did." Ratchet dryly corrected. He made a few notes on a datapad. "How are you feeling?"

"Like Ah'm coolin' off after a dip in a smeltin' pit."

"Understandable. You were half melted."

"Oh, joy."

"For now, you're staying on berth rest and I'm keeping you in here until I can find out what Shockwave put in that helm of yours." Ratchet continued as if Jazz had never spoken. "You can have visitors, but don't stress yourself too much. I want you sleeping."

At the mention of Shockwave, Jazz suddenly sat up. "Ya mean ya don't know?"

Jazz wouldn't have put it past him to have put a bomb in his helm, the mech was batshit crazy. Like he cared about his test subjects – so long as you survived and gave results you were allowed to live. The moment you stopped was the moment you were slaughtered. Nothing like firsthand experience.

Jazz stopped that train of thought there and then. It wasn't like that anymore… was it?

The fact he had something foreign in his head once more told him that maybe it was.

"No, I don't." Ratchet confirmed. "I'm going to be needing a specialist in processors before I can start poking around."

"An' where are we gunna be getting' one a those?" Jazz asked, frowning. Whatever was in his head, he wanted it gone and he wanted it gone now.

"A groon from now. We received a message from an inbound ship."

"Autobot?" Mirage asked, reminding the pair that he was still in the room. Ratchet was the first to compose himself and nodded.

"We're hoping the Decepticons didn't catch wind of it too. It's got a lot of friends of ours on board."

"Don't say anythin' else like that around me." Jazz suddenly ordered. Two pairs of optics focused on him. "Ya don't know what's in ma head. Could be anythin', an' it could be communicating with the Decepticons base like a wire tap."

"That… that _is_ true." Mirage confirmed, "It's something they've attempted before."

Ratchet just grunted. "Fine, no gossip for Jazz."

Jazz balked at that. No gossip! He'd be out of the loop! It wasn't just Special Ops coding protesting at this – it was his own natural (and rather annoying) curiosity too! "Not even a little?" He asked, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Well if you want a list of who's sleeping with who-" Ratchet began, pulling another datapad from his subspace. Mirage's jaw dropped and he gave Ratchet a disbelieving look, while Jazz just whimpered.

"Don't tease me, doc!"

"Why do you even _have_ such a list!?" Mirage squeaked, a sound very unbecoming of a noble. "That's unprofessional!"

"It helps with repairs." Ratchet shrugged, subspacing it again. "So I know who to expect." He quickly clarified at the pairs of horrified looks he received. "Also helps with organizing the beds, finding help and such."

Mirage still looked uneasy, but appeared to accept it all the same.

"Now, if you haven't got any other reason to be here, get the frag out." Ratchet pointed towards the door with his thumb. Mirage was quick to make himself scarce, knowing the medics temper. "Jazz, be honest. What happened there?"

"Ah was unconscious for most of it. The most Ah remember is being knocked out in the lab and waking up to feelin' as if Ah was being burned alive."

"Prowls report states that you were conscious enough to walk with the help of support for some time."

"That's true." Jazz acknowledged. "Ah did walk outta there, didn' Ah?"

"Very surprising, given your injuries. Many vital circuits were either scorched or warped, the more delicate ones melted. Overheated coolant, boiling energon, a damaged vocaliser, a broken visor-"

Ratchet continued on with the list, but Jazz's intakes hitched at broken visor.

Oh, _fuck_. The human curse was the only thing he could think of that would fit the situation, Cybertronian swears just didn't seem to fit in this situation. His optics. They'd been seen.

"Who knows?" Jazz quietly asked.

"About you being in medbay? Most likely the whole base."

"Not about that."

Ratchet paused, fixing him with a hard look. "Myself and Mirage, to the extent of my knowledge. No other reports indicated the knowledge of it."

Jazz simply nodded. He felt exhausted, and this was just the icing on the cake.

"We don't think any different of you." Ratchet quietly said, gently placing a hand on Jazz's shoulder. This time, he didn't flinch. "Get some recharge, you need it."

And with that, Ratchet left, locked the door and dimmed the lights.

Jazz was then left to his own thoughts, and he didn't like it. He needed a distraction, badly.

"Yo, Ratch?" Jazz shouted. Ratchets annoyed face appeared very quickly.

"What?" He asked in a disapproving tone.

"About that list..."

* * *

The medbay was dark when the visor onlined again.

Ratchet had long since retired to his berth, leaving the sole occupant to their own devices.

Only instead of the friendly blue visor everyone knew and loved, it was orange.

They slowly stood up, ripping out the various drips that they had been hooked up to and ignoring the way it stung. Monitors grew silent and fluids spilled onto the floor.

Using the meager light that the dim lights gave out, the mech surveyed themselves and promptly scowled at the sight of the Autobot insignia on their chest.

Disgusting.

Clawed hands scratched away at it, leaving deep grooves in their wake.

Right. Their claws clicked together. He had a task. Toy with the second in command.

Simple enough, the glitch never left its office.

Plastering on a grin, they swaggered out of medbay and towards the offices. Kudos to Jazz, they had to admit. He'd gotten everything for them, right down to what stock was kept in which supply bay despite the fact of it having no relation to his interests nor his division.

Whooie, head of special ops yet he couldn't wriggle away. The Autobots were pathetic.

But he knew his target, and he knew his routine. Glued to his office, with only Jazz being able to drag him out (unless it was Ratchet and Prowl was unconscious and sporting a dent in his helm) and he only left on the rare occasion he recharged. Jazz was the one who kept him refuelled.

The mech had become dependant on another, how _weak_.

And how easy to _break_.

The code to the office was one that was easily remembered, given to trusted hands and easily exploited.

Prowl was not in his office. The mech frowned, but shrugged it off. He could easily sit and wait for him. Prowl would be back.

It wasn't long until their patience was rewarded.

Back against the wall, they were hidden in the shadows and so not seen when the mech walked in. The moment their doorwings came into the picture, however, they immediately perked up and Prowl turned around to greet Jazz only to freeze at the colour of his visor.

"Jazz?" He said carefully, slowly turning his body so that he was facing the mech dead on.

"I'm not Jazz." The mech replied, voice dripping with venom at the name. Pathetic, both of them _pathetic_...

Without wasting a single second, Prowl had twisted an arm behind his back and was pushing him against the wall, one hand keeping the arm in place and the other on the back of the mech's neck to keep him there.

"Who are you?" Prowl demanded, voice tight.

"Nobody important. But I do know someone who's important to you. Very important." The mech said, grinning as he reached down and grasped one of Prowls thighs as he grinded his hips backwards against Prowl. The mech twitched and his hold faltered as he jerked back. "I think you know just as well as I do who I'm talking about."

"I don't believe I do." Prowl stiffly replied, silently berating himself for falling for that.

"Oh, no?" They replied, slowly rubbing their hand up and down that thigh as they spoke. "What a shame for them. He is awfully jealous, you know."

"With no reason to be. Answer me, who are you?"

The mech pulled a face before grinning. He tugged himself out of Prowls grip, turning around so that they were chest-to-chest.

"I'm nobody!"

"You have to be somebody." Prowl replied, annoyed. Why couldn't he be his usual, solid self around this mech? He would have called them Jazz if it weren't for the orange visor and accent.

The mech appeared to ponder on this for a moment before smiling, evidently deciding on something.

"Ricochet."

Well that was... Far fetched? Prowl didn't allow this to be shown on his face, however, and instead simply nodded. Before he could reply, Ricochet continued.

"Ah have ta go now, but next time Ah promise we can play some more!"

And with that, the visor went offline and they promptly collapsed onto the floor. Prowl had immediately knelt down beside them, hands ghosting over them as if unsure.

They were warm, but not hot enough to raise alarm. And Prowl couldn't help but notice that it was indeed Jazz.

What was going on?

Was this Shockwave's doing? Or was this simply an older alias Jazz had worked under resurfacing due to trauma?

Ratchet wouldn't be sure, but Rung would.

Prowl didn't know of he could wait a groon to find out.

So, without further ado, Prowl slid his arms under his knees and shoulders and picked him up, fully intending on taking him back to the medical bay.

With a gasp and a full bodied jerk, Jazz leapt back into consciousness and flattened out almost as straight as a board. Prowl yelped in shock, stumbling to regain his balance.

"Jazz?!"

With shuddering breaths and a trembling frame, Jazz slowly turned to look at Prowl before immediately relaxing, body slumping.

"It's just ya..." Jazz quietly said to himself, not looking away from the mech. Prowl quietly watched, unsure as to what to do. His logic centre began to tell him to put Jazz down, so Prowl knelt to do just that, but before he could pull away Jazz immediately shot out and grabbed onto his arm with a fearful expression.

"Please stay." Were the first words to fall from Jazz's mouth, breaking optic contact. Prowl made to sit down next to Jazz, allowing the contact to continue.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he arranged himself accordingly. Slowly, Jazz nodded.

"Helm hurts a lil' bit, but Ah'm okay. Missing memories too. How'd Ah get here?"

He didn't remember. Jazz usually did remember his episodes where he slipped back into past aliases, so this meant...

Prowls expression darkened.

_Shockwave_.

"I don't know. I found you in here." Prowl honestly replied. No use in lairing. "I was about to take you back to the medical bay, lest Ratchet have a fit."

Jazz took a moment to process this before nodding. "Ah guess we should probably get ourselves down there."

Prowl helped Jazz get back to his feet again, doorwings twitching being the only indication of just how on edge he was. As much as Jazz would have liked to soothe them, he most certainly did not feel invited to, nor did he feel as though he had permission. No, that was a right another Praxian held. Not him.

Jazz bit back the pained noise that threatened to escape him at that thought. What had happened between himself and Prowl? There were some nights when Prowl would come by his quarters unannounced, cubes of high grade and a game tucked under his arm, yet now... He was lucky to see him outside of work.

The walk back to the medical bay was silent, tension thick in the air. Prowl stayed close enough to Jazz so that he could catch him if he collapsed again, but far away enough to not crowd him. Jazz was perfectly okay with this, although he would have preferred if Prowl carried him. Of course, he'd never ever voice this aloud. It'd bring out his little-known laziness, and it wasn't entirely because he was too tired to walk.

Jazz wasn't sure why this was. Sure, he loved Prowl as a friend, but he didn't think himself to be _that_ possessive over him. It was _absurd_, the notion that Prowl was his. Prowl wasn't anyone's.

At least, Jazz hoped.

"I will ask Ratchet to look into this." Prowl suddenly said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks." Jazz replied, noticing that they were at the medbay and that they'd stopped walking. "Ah'm sorry about this..."

"It is fine." Prowl replied, palming the door open and gently nudging Jazz back inside. Ratchet was standing there, tapping his foot with his arms folded over his chest, looking decidedly unimpressed.

"So, planning on telling me you were going on a walk?" Ratchet asked, although Jazz had a feeling it was rhetorical.

"Course Ah was!" Jazz chirped, skirting past Ratchet and hopping back up onto the berth. "Ah just found Prowler."

Ratchet glanced at Prowl, the mech looking just as dumbfounded as he felt.

::I want a detailed report on what happened:: Ratchet commed Prowl, beginning to plug Jazz back in again.

::Of course:: Prowl replied, staying a few moments to watch before turning to leave.

* * *

Jazz didn't want to recharge again.

He sat up, watching the wall with rapt attention. Nothing was changing, however Jazz didn't want to risk relaxing. He couldn't blank out again. Waking up in Prowls arms had been unexpected and left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Had someone moved him there? Had he gone there himself? Answers weren't forthcoming from Prowl.

The little he remembered of his rescue just screamed trap. Shockwave had allowed them to leave; it was far too easy any other way. The defenses were deactivated or faulty, firing too late. Shutters weren't falling to lock them into the base. It was only drones that were going after them.

Considering he was Third in Command, and there was a chance to deactivate the Autobot Second in Command too, Jazz would have expected a much heavier resistance. In fact, he had been well protected up until Shockwave had implanted the chip…

The chip. It was the chip. Not long after it had been put in had Soundwave left the room, his cassette minions going with him. And then there had been pain.

_Jazz_ was the trap. And he was sitting right in the middle of the base.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long, I've burned my hand and yeah that was not fun at all. Do not recommend.**

**Also I'm back at college, eeey! Got nothing done that I wanted to over the summer ;A; I'm so sorry.**

**~Llama**


End file.
